<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>key lime gelato by sanzv</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060276">key lime gelato</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzv/pseuds/sanzv'>sanzv</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's niko), F/F, Fake Dating, classic eve polastri amirite, eve panics and pretends like she's engaged to villanelle, they're on a mission and you'll never believe who they meet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:14:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzv/pseuds/sanzv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, Eve, I see you brought your girlfriend.”<br/>In hindsight (and also in regular sight), this is a shitty idea. But instead of a flustered correction, she finds herself saying:<br/>“My fiancée, actually.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Killing Eve Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>key lime gelato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A fluorescent trail of key lime gelato follows the knobbly knuckles of Villanelle’s right hand and it is truly, absolutely, honest-to-god, the only thing on Eve’s mind at the moment. </p><p>She attempts to look away because she’s almost certain that her gaze isn’t as subtle as she believes it is. Where Villanelle’s concerned, her gaze has always been anything but subtle.</p><p> </p><p>But yes, alright, here’s a list of things she should be focusing on that isn’t the way that Villanelle is now <em>licking gelato off the fleshy section between her thumb and forefinger</em>.</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li>The mission. The reason they’re in this stupidly beautiful Italian town with a stupidly enormous amount of gelato, that Villanelle acts like she has a moral obligation to eat as much of as possible.</li>
<li>The fact that this is the first time that Caroline has sent the two of them to complete a mission alone, unsupervised, despite Eve’s model employee behaviour over the last year and a half. And obviously, this means that she needs the entire mission to go well.</li>
Needs it to go in a direction that isn’t pulling Villanelle back to their hotel and finally, <em>finally </em>deciding to ruin their shitty agreement to keep things platonic while they work together. Fuck.
</ol>
<ol>
<li>The way Villanelle is smiling out of the window of this tour bus. Sun dappled across her nose and mouth and starchy white shirt.</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>And it is this hefty list of thoughts that she chooses to blame when a voice behind them calls out her name.</p><p>She’s almost certain that she’s hallucinated it, given the fact that the only other person in Sant'Oreste who knows her name is sitting next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, elbow-to-elbow, thigh-to-thigh. And if she isn’t hallucinating it, the Chechnyan mobster they’re tailing is four seats ahead and one seat to the left. So, what kind of secret agent is she if she gives away her name on the first day of a mission.</p><p> </p><p>But then Niko comes and stands in front of her, placing a heavy hand on the back of her plastic bus seat. Niko Polastri.</p><p>Niko who used to under-season his food and carefully fold her woolen socks and who sent a lawyer to finalise his divorce from her without ever once coming back to London to say goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>Niko who she loved and never once hated, because how could she hate someone that she was just relieved to be away from. Niko, who paled on his wedding day when compared to Villanelle on a regular day at the office.</p><p> </p><p>“Niko! What – sorry, I meant, what are doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“On vacation,” he says with a tight smile. Gestures behind him like this is a movie and someone is waiting offscreen.</p><p>Except someone is waiting offscreen, Eve realises with a shock. A younger woman, one who dresses herself a bit like Niko’s mother did. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skirt. Incredibly ordinary.</p><p>(And yeah, sure, Eve’s wearing a pair of unfashionable brown trousers and a tank top but Villanelle has still been pretty distracted by it so it isn’t <em>really</em> hypocritical to be unimpressed by this woman.)</p><p> </p><p>“This is, uh, my –” he rubs the back of his neck and grins bashfully at the woman, “well, my girlfriend. Krystyna, this is Eve, my ex-wife.”</p><p> </p><p>It is only now that Niko leans over to look at Eve’s seat-mate. Villanelle has been stiffly listening to everything next to Eve but at this, she offers up a grimace that somewhat passes for a smile.</p><p> </p><p>After too many years of marriage, Eve understands Niko’s displeasure too well, the way his mouth twists to the left and his moustache bristles with disapproval.</p><p>And God, she has definitely never seen him this livid.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Eve, I see you brought your <em>girlfriend</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>In hindsight (and also in regular sight), this is a shitty idea. But instead of a flustered correction, she finds herself saying:</p><p> </p><p>“My fiancée, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>At this point, all hell (and also quite a bit of Eve’s personal heaven) breaks loose. Niko’s practically vibrating with both rage and a mossy green jealousy. Krystyna, sweet Krystyna who hasn’t had a chance to say a word yet, definitely looks like she might faint. Eve will assume it’s because Villanelle and Eve make an incredible looking couple and not because of Warsaw’s attitude on human rights.</p><p>And Villanelle stiffens even further, but is looking at Eve with wide eyes and the smallest impressed smile.</p><p> </p><p>Niko and Krystyna politely sputter a bit before slinking off back to their seats and Villanelle fully turns towards Eve, grinning incredibly widely.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Eve.”</p><p> </p><p>Eve tiredly massages her forehead, “Hey, Villanelle.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I know you think I’m some sexual … savant who can’t keep track of all their conquests but I know for a fact that I have only ever been engaged one time and it was not to you. I am sure I would remember if you had proposed to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I know, obviously, this is not great. It’s not ideal. But I panicked!”</p><p> </p><p>“By the way, Moustache is looking very ugly nowadays. You are much better off without him.”</p><p> </p><p>And always, the two of them dance around what they want to say. <em>I’m glad you aren’t with him anymore. I can’t believe you gave up your luxurious life just to work in my shitty office. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you on that bridge. I’m sorry we aren’t actually engaged right now; I couldn’t do this back then and it feels like it’s too late to start now. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Instead of anything real, Eve says “We can get off this tour bus now, this whole thing is quite stressful. I obviously understand if you want to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” this part is whispered, “the Chechnyan gangster is still here. We need to see which stop he’ll get off at.”</p><p> </p><p>Eve grimaces at this. “Alright, okay, I guess we have to keep this up for a bit.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle’s grin is so sharp that surely, it’s a murder weapon in itself.</p><p> </p><p>“If we must be fake-engaged to put on a show for Moustache, then I will be the best fake-fiancée you have ever had.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It turns out that fake-fiancée-ing consists of Villanelle’s head on Eve’s shoulder. And cheese-filled, tooth-rotting, cringe-inducing couple selfies at all the tour bus stops.</p><p>It consists of Villanelle taking Eve’s hand and smiling in this self-conscious way about it. It consists of Eve mustering as much courage as she can fit into her throat and calling Villanelle ‘babe’ when she thinks Niko is looking and a handful (okay two handfuls) of times that Niko is not looking.</p><p> </p><p>It’s been four hours on the bus and Villanelle is teasing her about breakfast and it feels like their lunches back at the office with something more. It feels like forgetting that the fabric of their interactions is knitted from guilt and violence and pain.</p><p> </p><p>It feels like remembering that this is still the woman who Eve so genuinely like being around. She makes Eve laugh and is so strange and would possibly kill everybody she knows for Eve to have a good afternoon. All of which Eve finds equally romantic.</p><p> </p><p>And so what of it if Eve enjoys herself too much. If she notes down the bar that the hulking Chechnyan mobster heads into before being dragged by Villanelle into a restaurant down the street. Although, she isn’t completely sure who did the dragging. Dragging is too subjective an action to assign blame onto someone, she’s always maintained.</p><p> </p><p>Niko and Krystyna are already seated in the back of the restaurant, almost done with their meal.</p><p>Eve can see leftovers of tension in the clench of his jaw, in the way Krystyna takes tiny bites out of their shared plate of gnocchi.</p><p> </p><p>But she really isn’t leaving her fingers tangled with Villanelle’s for them anymore. So, after they order too much food for two people, she blurts out:</p><p> </p><p>“I’d actually very much like this to be real.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle squints, “You are proposing marriage to me right now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, oh my god, no. Just, I don’t know, dating. Or, like, non-platonic stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said it would be complicated, though. After the bridge. I agreed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I’d like complicated now, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle leans back and folds her arms over her chest. The linen stretches across her arms and god, Eve’s like a fifteen-year-old discovering attraction for the first time, because who gets so affected by biceps through a button-down.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, alright, get a fucking grip, Eve Polastri.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you are a very sexy woman, Eve.”</p><p> </p><p>(Blushing) “Um – thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle nods, “I would like to have sex with you very much. And I do also enjoy spending my time with you.”</p><p> </p><p>(Burning) “Alright, likewise, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle smiles softly, “But you have to remember that it will be real-dating. You can’t forget all the very real issues that come with it. You didn’t like my issues before, remember, why now?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not just now. I’ve been – I’ve wanted to do this for a while now. I just – I mean, I couldn’t get myself to bring it up before. It’s fine if you don’t want to take this risk, or whatever, though. Jesus, forget it, I’m fine with whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>She is not fine with whatever. God only knows for how long she’s been imagining Villanelle’s hair splayed across her bedroom sheets and Villanelle’s mumbled singing in the bathroom of her shitty flat back in London. But even this quarter-rejection has been more painful than the entirety of the divorce.</p><p> </p><p>Eve carefully sips (okay, desperately gulps) her wine when the server places two plates of oily, meaty, hot food in front of them. He turns to Villanelle, asks if they would like to order some more wine and Eve is also a bit affronted that this stupid server has just decided that she can’t be the decider of more wine.</p><p>Being affronted is better than being ashamed so she silently stews in it.</p><p> </p><p>“Konstantin once told me that it would be pointless to try and keep someone close.” Villanelle says once they’re alone again. She shrugs, toys with the corner of her lip before releasing it. “I think you are the only one I have ever wanted to keep this – close after really knowing.</p><p>I think I see you and I am very glad you are not uncomfortable about it right now, but I would like to know that you will not be uncomfortable about it later.”</p><p> </p><p>Eve looks around the restaurant, trying hard to not snap at Villanelle, just because of how incredibly vulnerable she’s feeling right now. Realises with a start that Niko and his girlfriend have left.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to be close to you. I’m certain.”</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle grins, bright and beautiful, pushes the plate of ravioli away from where it’s kept, towards the center of the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I am making a real-move now. No more fake-fiancée.”</p><p> </p><p>She half stands, and alright, they’re kissing over the table now. Villanelle’s hand is on Eve’s shoulder, fingers splayed out on the side of her neck. Eve feels like she’s been punched and simultaneously like someone’s filled new breath into her lungs.</p><p> </p><p>In her excitement (never let it be said that Eve is the less enthusiastic one here), a glass of wine spills over and Villanelle smiles against her lips.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Dinner is a loud affair. One with certainly too many shy smirks and too much under-table knee brushing. They discuss the ugly Chechnyan mobster that Villanelle will kill the next day and the incredible food and how unimpressive both Niko and Krystyna are, compared to them.</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle insists that Eve feed her a bite, grins in a self-satisfied way around the fork and Eve’s eye roll is entirely for show.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t sleep very well that night and Eve only complains about it twice; met with eyebrow-waggles and shitty innuendos from Villanelle both times.</p><p> </p><p>Villanelle buys them seven gelatos between the two of them in the next three days. Eve explains how the melted key lime gelato absolutely obliterated her composure on the tour bus. The flight back to London is as lovely as flights can be and their speedy cohabitation after is definitely lovelier.</p><p> </p><p>They argue about work and talk through most issues they have. Villanelle saves half her favourite desserts for Eve and Eve buys trashy tabloids for Villanelle to keep up with inane celebrity gossip that she is inexplicably obsessed with.</p><p> </p><p>A year later, they are real-fiancées and Eve casually suggests a wedding at the municipal office in Sant'Oreste. Villanelle scribbles a stupid list that makes Eve laugh, to weigh out the advantages and disadvantages, but ultimately it boils down to this:</p><p> </p><p>I don’t care. I’m glad you’re close.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>is killing eve on hiatus rn? sure. are the number of people actively reading killing eve fic shrinking every day? yes perhaps. am i still unhealthily obsessed with it? absolutely. </p><p>hope you liked this! leave a comment if you want. who am i to stop you &lt;3</p><p>@sverm2 on twitter :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>